...where the music is like water rushing through you ... your function is really like that of a hose



Morton clutched to the only possession he had left to his name, the salt -water- ruined sea cocktails painting which he had just spent the early morning floating on into the La Libertad Bay, a distinct voice could be heard shouting his name. I swear to God…

Tyler Kobich approached the phone booth Morton was sitting next to. He was riding on a donkey with a small local El Salvadorian boy at the reigns. Tyler jumped off the donkey like Mary Lou Retton at an all female bike rally and proceeded to smack the donkey’s rear. “Hey man, how come you’re all wet?”

The blood in Morton’s veins came to a riotous boil. “Hey…You Ok?” Tyler asked as he suddenly became aware that Morton was in disarray. “You…good?” Morton jumped up to his feet. The dust swirling in the air around him clung to his clothes. “Yeah, I’m stellar!" Morton continued on his rant, “What’s with the little El Salvadorian boy on the donkey? Can’t you ever just have a normal mode of transportation or does everything have to be an esoteric disaster? I’m shocked you didn’t have Juan Valdez from the coffee can pick me up on his way back from the mountains, don’t you know him too! Aren’t you guys, you know, hookah buddies or something!” Tyler motioned to the El Salvadorian boy to tie up the ass.

“C’mon Mort, lets just calm down and get some food in you. So what happened?” Tyler insisted on getting some pupusa’s from a sit down restaurant located just around the corner. As they walked away, the El Salvadorian boy tied up the ass and said a prayer by the loin cloth phone booth.

[El Atlacatl RESTAURANT]

“So let me get this straight,” the waitress poured tea into the cups in front of them. “They thought you were an art thief?” Morton shook his head and answered the inquiry, “Apparently, they assumed that since I was traveling alone with paintings and was looking for an underground route to a small country that I had to have been a thief,” Morton clasped the tea cup to warm his hands even though it was 87 degrees in the restaurant. “I guess they thought my paintings were priceless works of art, go figure.” “How’d you get away?” Tyler, growing impatient, signaled to the waitress in an unholy way that this American was hungry and she damn better well take there order.

“I heard them shouting after a long night of drinking and cards. They began to whisper and then I heard the captain’s machete shrill out of its holster. I’d spent enough days with these brutes to reach the epiphany right then-and-there what was happening. As the footsteps got closer I grabbed the only thing I could find, a shoe horn that I had noticed earlier in the day. Funny, it crossed my mind as I picked it up ‘what were these smugglers doing with a shoe horn’, but anyway, I hid behind the door and got real silent. They drunkenly came down the steps yelling and swung the door open. I waited till they took a few steps and then I smashed the captain in the back of the head with the shoe horn and kicked the old man in the stomach. The old man was unarmed so I let him lie. Then I finished the captain.” Morton stopped his story and looked away from Tyler.

The waitress approached, “Wait, you killed a man - I’ll have four pupusa’s and a diet coke, my buddy here will have the same,” Tyler finished his sentence, “So you killed him? With the shoe horn or with your hands? I can't imagine a shoe horn could do the trick” A meek look came over Morton’s face, “Yup, I killed him. I killed him with a couple stomps to the head,” He looked down and humbly took a sip of his tea.

Tyler’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “You killed a Pirate!! Ah-ha!! Of all the things man, of all the things in the whole world (laughing), that's what this is all about! You executed a Pirate! ARRRRR!!!! What about the old man?”

“What’s so funny, they almost killed me! I could have been dead, don’t you get it you dummy!”

Tyler shot back, “How’d you kill the old man? How’d you do it? I have to know! Did you crack his neck? Karate Chop!!" Tyler slammed the table, rattling the silverware, "Or did you shove the shoe horn down his throat?!! What’d you do?!” Morton was not amused by Tyler’s enthusiasm. “If you must know, I just threw him off the ship into the ocean. I threw the captain overboard as well.”

The two different attitudes of the men at the table were a glacier apart. If you happened to have been fortunate enough to overhear this conversation you’d be just as tempted to laugh as you would have been to call the police. It was like listening to Tony Soprano explain how he killed the rabbit to Elmer Fudd.

Yes, A loin Cloth Phone Booth

No comments:

Post a Comment